Hold me when I am ill, hold me always
by ginaromano2012
Summary: Umn, this one kind of wrote itself, but it's another jesslock! Oneshot. I hope you guys like it. By the way, I really a, sorry about the horrible grammar and punctuation, I've been sick and I usually write these at 2 in the morning... Leave reviews!


I frowned as I stepped in a large puddle of mud, soaking my new light tan suede boots. I glared up at the dark sky and cursed uncharacteristically as a drop of rain landed in my eye. I kept walking down the near empty London pavement, pulling my peacoat tighter around myself. I had been walking for around twenty minutes in the rain, because Mary had called last minute to inform me she couldn't pick me up from work as she had promised. Her excuse? John had surprised her with a romantic night out. Now, I was happy that John was being so sweet to her, but I really needed that ride. For some reason taxis aren't commonly seen in the rain and I didn't have my own car.

Granted, I only lived two miles away from my office, it was still aggravating to have to walk home. Alone. At night. In the rain. I scowled again as my stomach grumbled. I was cold, hungry, wet, tired, and sore. I had been on my feet all day and I hadn't eaten since seven this morning, seeing as I skipped lunch. I glanced at my watch, trying to see the bright digital numbers through the rain and saw that it was twenty past seven. I groaned, realizing I had worked overtime as well. I coughed, a tickle forming in my throat. I coughed again, hoping to make it go away to no avail. I looked up at a streetlight that had started flickering and frowned. That's all I needed, the power going out due to the storm, while I was alone in the city streets.

I continued walking, picking up the pace a litte and regretting my decision to skip lunch again. My stomach wouldn't quit grumbling in the loudest of fashions. I frowned and hitched my computer bag up higher on my shoulder, looking around me. It was normal for the streets to be fairly void of people on nights like these. Mid-November, rainy, foggy and cold. No one wanted to be out in that kind of weather. I saw a group of teenagers across the street, running and laughing as they tried to cover their heads with newspaper. I smiled at there carefree personas, wishing I could be them at this moment.

I walked past a busy pub that had its door open. The lovely smell of fresh fried food and warmth radiated from within. I inhaled and coughed again. I wiped my nose on my already drenched sleeve. Just then I saw someone walking towards me, quickly. It was a tall, dark man in what looked like a trench coat. His head was ducked down against the torrential rain pour and winds, so I couldn't make out his features. I wrinkled my nose, unsure if I should switch street sides or not, just so I could avoid potential trouble. Just then the man called out to me, telling me to stop.

I widened my eyes and stopped at the curb, looking both ways and waiting for a break in traffic, so that I could cross. The man hadnt made any threatening moves, yet, but id ratjer be safe than sorry. The man quickened his pace, breaking into a light jog. I started striding as fast as i could, without running, across the street, just to get away from the man. Even though that would cause me to be on the opposite side of the pavement than my flat, I didn't really care. I hopped up on the curb and continued on my way, hoping to get home and reach my lovely dinner and hot bath.

"Wait! Jess!" I stopped as the man used my name and turned around, waiting for him to catch up so that I could confront him. The man stopped a few feet from me and walked underneath a streetlight. I smiled, the second I saw who it was. "Sherlock! What're you doing here?" I asked my boyfriend (such a mundane term, compared to how I felt about the man), walking up to him and grabbing his left hand, squeezing it affectionately. Sherlock gave me a half smile before motioning towards the plastic bag containing a carton of milk in his right hand. "John asked me to pick up milk yesterday, so I figured I might as well buy it, since he is out and all that." Sherlock said, sounding distracted with a worried look appearing on his face.

I sneezed in response, earning an amused look from him. "You are sick? Are you not? Why are you out here at this hour, in the rain none the less?" I shook my head and looked around the street, noticing a few people had started mulling around, leaving pubs and restaurants. "I had to work late and Mary cancelled on me. I'm not sick, why?" I answered, rubbing my eyes and yawning. It's been a long day, I thought. "You are showing signs up illness. I do not know what you have caught, unfortunately I am not a doctor. Love, You are freezing!" He added when rubbing my hand with his thumb.

I nodded and stepped closer to him, kissing him on the cheek. "Yes, I am really cold. I've been out here for," I looked at my watch, "a hour." I said, rubbing my arms with my hands. Sherlock smiled and opened his trench coat, motioning for me to step closer. When I did, he wrapped his coat around me and pulled me close, smiling into my eyes. "Warmer?" He asked, whispering into my ear. I gave him a soft smile and nodded. "Do you want to go back to 221 with me? It is closer than your flat is. I could put the kettle on and serve you some tea." Sherlock said, bending down, slightly, so that he was eye-to-eye with me.

I blushed, realizing I had never been alone in his flat with him before. I nodded, though. It was closer and I was freezing. Sherlock kissed me on the temple and led me down the street, his coat still around the two of us. We made it to his flat in little to no time, and he let us in, trying to stay quiet as if not to wake Mrs. Hudson. It was after eight at night and she was surely asleep. Sherlock took the coat off the two of us and hung it up on the hook by the door, then grabbed my hand and led me upstairs to their flat.

Sherlock shut the door behind us and motioned for me to sit down on the couch as he headed to the kitchen. I sat on the edge of the sofa, so I wouldn't get it wet. I was still drenched, my clothing completely saturated from the rain. I heard Sherlock bumping around in the kitchen and saw him walk past the doorway, kettle in hand. A few moments later he strolled out and leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. I sighed, he looked so extremely handsome. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his shoes were kicked off, leaving him in his socks, which somehow made him look even sexier. He smiled at me, cocking his head, slightly. "Would you like to change your clothing? You don't need to sit in soaking wet clothes."

I nodded and followed him to his room where he started rummaging through his things. Finally, he pulled out an old uni sweatshirt and a pair of light blue boxers. "John keeps buying me these things," he held up the boxers in disgust, "he hopes that one day I will decided to change my habits and sleep in them." He set the neatly folded clothes on the bed and sat down next to them. "Sorry, I don't have any underwear, but of you would like you can just give me all of your clothing and I will put them in that machine that dries objects." He smiled his breathtaking smile, ignoring my blush. "You mean, the dryer?" I asked, giggling. He nodded and grabbed my waist, pulling me closer to him. I looked down at him, my legs against his knees.

Sherlock started busying himself by stripping the sponge of a coat off my body, throwing it into a soaking heap in the corner. He pulled me in his lap and kissed my neck, making me giggle, not to mention soaking the lap and stomach of his clothing. "My clothing is wet!" I giggled, pulling away. He kept a firm grip, wrapping his arms around my middle and pulling me in. "I don't care. Come here, you." He said, kissing me. I sighed, wrapping my arms around his neck. Much to my disappointment the kiss didnt last very long, he pulled away within seconds, kissing me on the forehead. "We need to get you out of these wet clothes."

I felt my face heat up, whereas Sherlock seemed oblivious to what he had said. He pulled me across his lap, so that I was draped over him, on my back. I looked up in surprise, then started laughing when I realized what he was doing. He was pulling my boots off of my feet, throwing them in the same pile as my coat. I squealed when he tried to pull my socks off. He looked up in surprise. "Are you ticklish?" He asked, a devious little smile forming on his beautiful lips. My eyes got huge as I went to get off his lap, he pulled me back and pushed me onto the bed, pinning me down and tickling my sides. I screamed in laughter as I tried pushing him away to no avail.

Finally, I got the idea to retaliate by ticking him back. A huge, deep, bark of laughter escaped his lips as he fell off me and off the bed, landing with a heavy thud on the floor. My eyes lit up, as I realized that my dear, dear Sherlock Holmes was ticklish! I jumped off the bed and climbed on top of him, even though he was still on the floor. I grinned evilly as I tickled him. He threw his head back and laughed the most heartfelt, belly laugh I had ever heard. He sounded like a child. My heart swelled in joy, I had never heard him laugh quite like this, it made me want to laugh out of pure joy.

"Okay! Okay! Jessica!" Sherlock cried out, grabbing my wrists and forcing me to stop, tears in his eyes. We both sat there, me still straddling his lap, smiling at one another. Finally, Sherlock sat up and moved me off of him when we heard the kettle whistle. "Okay!" He clapped his hands, getting up and looking down at his now soaked clothing, shrugging. "Get changed and I will pour us a mug of tea. Two sugars, no milk, right?" He asked, running his fingers through his mess of curls, already heading towards the door. I nodded at his back, still on the floor, smiling at him. I loved this man so much and I had just heard the most amazing sound. His laughter. He smiled, closing the door behind himself.

I got up and peeled the wet clothing off of myself, leaving my underwear where they were. I pulled the sweatshirt over my head, surprised to see that it reached mid thigh and pulled on the boxers, which were too large in the waist. I frowned, realizing that they wouldn't stay up. I dug through my computer bag, finding the new pair of pajama short shorts I had bought a few days ago on my lunch break. I slipped them on and put the boxer shorts away. I ran the brush from my purse through my soaked hair and left the room.

Sherlock met me halfway through the hall, handing me a mug of hot tea and leading me into the lounge. I was happy to see he had started a fire as well as made tea. We sat down on the couch next to each other and he leaned over to turn on the table lamp, which dimly lit the lounge and cast shadows on all of the walls, causing a romantic look to the flat. Sherlock looked over at me, before grabbing his tea mug off of the coffee table and sipping it. I looked at his pale, long fingers, wrapped around the dark brown mug, realizing that the contrast was beautiful. Everything is beautiful about him, I realized. I looked up at his eyes and saw a twinkle in them. He leaned over and set his mug across from me, removing mine from my hands as well.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer to him. "Are you feeling a bit warmer now?" He whispered in my ear, rubbing my arms, trying to create enough friction to warm me, but his touch was enough. I smiled and nodded. "Yeah, but your boxers were too big for me." I said, motioning towards my shorts. "I think John bought a size too large for me." Sherlock answered, his eyes soft. I coughed, a wave of dizziness swept over me. I closed my eyes, holding my head in my hands. Sherlock's hand was immediately on my shoulder, he leaned in, concern written all over his face, the space inbetween his eyebrows crinkling. "Are you okay?" He asked me, looking into my eyes as if searching for an answer. I nodded, leaning against his chest. "Yeah, I'm just tired." I said, closing my eyes.

"Are you hungry? I could make you an omelette." Sherlock asked, rubbing my arm again. I shook my head no, realizing that I wasn't hungry anymore. Sherlock nudged me so that I'd sit up. He got up and went into his room. I sat on the couch, confused asto why he left. He came back out carrying a huge afghan. "Need this?" He asked, holding up the ugly yellow thing. I smiled, when suddenly a wave of nausea hit me hard. I ran to the bathroom and gagged over the toilet, losing my lunch- well, breakfast. I heard Sherlock's light, but solid step behind me. He lifted my hair from around my face and held it, patting me awkwardly on the back. I guess John hasn't explained what you do in a situation like this, I thought, chuckling, as I flushed the toilet.

I stood up and went to the sink, holding on to it for support. "Can I borrow your toothbrush?" I asked Sherlock, who I could see in the mirror. I saw him nod, his eyes wide and dark. I have to admit, i was surprised helet me use it, seeing as he was very OCD whn it came to personal hygeine. I brushed my teeth and left the bathroom, Sherlock following close behind. My vision went wonky all of a sudden and I fell, Sherlock barely catching me before I hit the ground. I looked up at him, mumbling my thanks. Then, thongs started getting fuzzy and I blacked out.

Wherever I was it was soft and warm and I had the vague feeling of security. I slowly opened my eyes, only to be hit with a horrible headache. I groaned and opened them again, only to see complete darkness. I soon got my barings and realized that I was in sherlocks bed, his thick comforter wrapped around me as well as his scent. I rolled over and stared at the door, wondering if it was worth it to get up and find a glass of water. As soon as I completed the thought, the door opened and a strip of light filled the room, causing me to flinch. Sherlock came in and quickly shit the door behind himself. I felt him hold a glass of water against my lips and I drank it, very grateful.

"Thank you." I whispered. "What happened?" I felt the bed dip as Sherlock crawled under the covers with me. I was too tired to care at this point. "You fainted. Your fever rose quite a bit. It reached 104.1 degrees, Jess. I was worried. So, sorry, but I took the liberty of taking your clothing off and putting you in an ice bath. Do not worry, I left your underclothes on." He added, feeling me tense. "When you did not wake up after that I gave you some aspirin and put you in my bed. You have been out for two hours." He finished, his voice strained. "I was scared." He added, his voice sounding small.

I smiled and grabbed his shirt front, pulling myself up against him. "I'm feeling a little bit better." I said, nuzzling my face in his neck. I felt him smile as he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me flush against him. "Just go to sleep, I gave you some heavy duty medication in that water. That is probably why you are feeling so sleepy." He said, petting my hair. I smiled and fell asleep, feeling his warm, strong arms surrounding me.

I woke up the next morning, the sun being blocked out by the drapes. I stretched and smiled, realizing that I was laying on Sherlock's chest, his arms loosely thrown around me. I looked at his peaceful, sleeping face and realized how young he looked when he wasn't pretending. My heart ached for this man, who had been through so much and yet was so strong. I stroked his cheek and kissed his neck, trying to wake him up. When he didnt stir I decided to get up and grab some aspirin and water, just to make sure I kept my fever down. So far I felt fine, but I didn't want to push it and worry the man under me further.

I sat up and threw my legs over the side of the bed, stretched, and stood up. I realized I wasn't wearing anything besides my underwear and one of sherlocks button ups. I got up and passed the mirror that hung above his dresser, my reflection catching my eye. I stopped and looked: my hair was all tangled and messy, from Sherlock bathing me then putting me in bed without my hair being brushed, I assumed; I had dark circles under my eyes; and I had very little clothing on. I kinda chuckled at how my night ended and tip toed the rest of the way to the door.

I opened it as quietly as I could and snuck out, walking down the hall and going into the kitchen. I grabbed the small aspirin bottle off the counter and poured a few out, twisting the lid back on. I set the two rust colored pills back on the counter and went to hunt for a glass. I opened a few cabinets before finding the correct one. I sighed, the glasses were up on the middle shelf, the shelf I was just too short to reach. I stood on my tiptoes, causing my shirt to lift, showing my panty-clad butt. I just reached the glass when I heard someone clear their throat behind me. I spun around, almost dropping the cup, to see John standing in the doorway, an eyebrow raised. My cheeks burned as I tugged Sherlock's shirt down.

I lifted a hand and wiggled a few fingers at him, causing him to smile a bit. "So..." He said, his eyes raking over my body, taking it all in. "You slept over, I take it?" He asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the frame. I nodded, swallowing my pills. Johns eyebrows disappeared in his hairm before he slowly nodded and walked off. Suddenly I realized what John meant, he thought I had slept with Sherlock! Well, I did, just not in the adult-panty-party kind of way. "Wait! John! I didn't have sex with Sherlock!" I nearly shouted, chasing after him. John looked up from his laptop, which he had just opened, clearly amused. "No? It sure seems that way." He said, motioning at my near-nakedness. "No. I got sick last night. I just slept in Sherlock's bed." I said, blushing.

John grinned. "Fine, I believe you. I don't think Sherlock is ready for that yet, anyway." He said, looking back down at his keys. My cheeks got ever hotter. "What do you mean?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest, feeling the need to defend my boyfriend. John looked at me skeptically. "I don't think he understands women enough. Plus, I'm not looking forward to the day he asks me about that topic..." Job trailed off, noticing my embarrassment. Just then I felt a pair of familiar arms snake their way around my waist, which surprised me. Sherlock didn't normally show PDA. Okay, he never did, he thought it "improper".

John nodded, averting his attention to his blog once more, giving us privacy. "Goodmorning, beautiful. How are you feeling this morning?" He whispered in my ear, carefully kissing my neck, causing me to shiver. I turned around in his arms, so I could face him and kiss him on the cheek. "Much better. I just took some aspirin. I don't think I have a fever today." I said, grabbing his hand and leading him to the kitchen, where I preceded to hop up on the counter. Sherlock followed, digging some orange juice out of the fridge and pouring me a cup, which caused me to smile. He remembered that I didn't like coffee in the morning and that made me feel special, even though he rarely forgot anything. It means he didnt delete the silly little fact about myself.

Sherlock walked up to me, handing me the glass, which I quickly set down. I then realized that Sherlock was wearing a pair of blue boxers and a white button up. Unbuttoned. My eyes got slightly larger at the lovely sight. "You are wearing pajamas!" I exclaimed, smiling playfully to cover up my checking him out. He looked me in the eyes, taking a sip of water from the glass I had left on the counter earlier. "Well, yes. I did not think you would be comfortable if I slept in the same bed as you in my usual state." He answered, seriously. I blushed, wondering if I would have really minded. Then I mentally slapped myself for such thoughts, seeing as we had only been together for a few months.

I smiled again, looking at his lean, but toned, body. He had just the right amount of muscle, in my opinion and he was exceedingly pale, in a porcelain sort of way. I grinned at him, before taking half of his shirt in each hand and pulling him to me, which he allowed willingly. I looked him in the eye and leaned in, so that I could whisper in his ear. "Thank you for taking care of me last night." I whispered, more breathily than I had meant. He shuddered slightly as I kissed his neck, causing me to smile while I was kissing him. He put his fingers under my chin and kissed my nose, again surprising me with the sudden act of affection. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his lips to my own.

Sherlock reacted immediately, our lips instantly in sync with one another. He stood inbetween my knees, a warm hand on each of my legs. I twisted my fingers in his hair and pulled him closer, his chest now pressed against me. His fingers tightening on my legs, as I deepened the kiss. He let out a deep growl when I tugged on his hair. I wrapped my legs around his waist and he bit my lip lightly, causing me to groan out loud, surprising even myself. He broke the kiss off, gasping. I pouted slightly, until he started kissing my neck, making me squeak a little in response. I let my head tilt back a little, allowing him to kiss the crook of my neck, causing pure bliss by the time his lips attacked my own yet again.

This time we ignored the formalities, deepening the kiss immediately. I pressed myself firmly against him, running my fingers over his shoulders as he grabbed my hips, pulling me even closer. I let out another moan, I could swear he was reading my mind. Never had I met a man who could kiss as well as he did. I pulled away causing him to sigh, but I fixed that by kissing his collar bone and shoulders. His hands tightened on my waist, clearly enjoying it. It made me laugh, he kneaded whatever he had his hands on, when he was happy. Like a cat. Come to think of it, Sherlock was very feline. I attacked his soft, pink lips once again absorbed in our little world. He let his teeth barely graze my lip, earning a whimper from me.

John decided to choose this time to walk in. "Bloody hell! Not where there is food, mate! Oi!" He cried, somewhat shielding his eyes. Sherlock and I broke apart, both panting. I was blushing like crazy, but Sherlock looked calm and collected, if slightly out of breath. "I'm going to go change." Sherlock stated, kissing me on the cheek and sauntering out of the room. I sat there, still perched on the counter, panting. Red face and all. I felt flushed all over and I noticed I was shaking slightly, never had a man affected me in this way and so strongly. John smirked at me. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he is ready for that discussion."


End file.
